


Outside Your Comfort Zone

by Telaryn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Begging, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Tony Stark, Boys Kissing, Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Dom Clint Barton, Dom Natasha, Dom/sub Play, Just Sex, Multi, Orgy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seduction, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:45:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem was that while Clint and Natasha were easily the most sexually open and adventurous of the Avengers, <i>assassin</i> was actually in their job description.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outside Your Comfort Zone

They’d all wondered, ever since the day Tony opened Avengers Tower to his friends as their new home, but it was Pepper who finally asked him straight out if he planned on propositioning Clint and Natasha. “Never thought about it,” he said without missing a beat; not caring that Pepper of all people would know immediately that he was lying. He _had_ thought about it. Hell, he was pretty sure he would have had to be clinically dead not to have thought about it.

The problem was that while they were easily the most sexually open and adventurous of the Avengers, _assassin_ was actually in their job description. It was enough to pull Tony up short, especially because he already knew Natasha didn’t like him. And while Clint came across as easy-going, and willing to poke fun at anything and anyone as Tony himself, they all knew he could take out a mark at a distance of over a mile without breaking a sweat.

It was that Clint that Tony found on the roof of Avengers Tower, landing arrow after arrow in the targets that had been set up for that very purpose. No hint of his customary purple flashed against the close fitting black t-shirt or any of his gear, and his black jeans were tight enough that Tony felt his mouth go dry.

Raising the glass in his hand to his lips, he took a swallow of his Scotch. Later on, when he had time and space to retrace his steps he realized the rattle of ice in his glass must have alerted Clint to his presence. In the moment all he saw was a blur, followed by a clear flash of Clint’s arrow pointing at _him._ The twang of a bowstring filled his ears before he stumbled back into the wall.

He never saw the second arrow, but he heard the bowstring again and felt the vibration through his body as it struck the wall next to his waist. “What the fucking hell, Barton?” he cried, realizing that even though both arrows had narrowly missed his body, his loosely buttoned dress shirt was now neatly pinned to the brick. “Were you trying to kill me?”

He’d seen video footage of Barton when Clint had been under Loki’s control; Tony couldn’t help comparing that Hawkeye with the man now standing opposite him, calmly lowering his bow. “Okay,” Tony went on when it was clear Clint wasn’t going to say anything right away, “you’re right. I’m sorry – I should have said something sooner, let you know I was there.” His heart skipped several beats as Clint walked slowly towards him.

When Hawkeye was well inside Tony’s personal space, he reached out and took the still half-full glass of Scotch from his hand. Without breaking eye contact, he raised the tumbler to his lips and drained the contents in a single swallow. “You didn’t used to water down your booze,” he said flatly, as the ice tinkled in the glass again.

“I’m trying to pace myself,” Tony countered, trying to ignore the sudden spike in his heart rate. Clint was close, much too close, and the idea that he’d watched Tony enough over the years to know Stark used to drink his Scotch straight was suddenly much hotter than it had any right to be. “Can we, uh, focus on you getting me out of this situation?”

Tony had come to realize that in many ways Clint Barton was a shadow of himself. When you took the physical trappings away, they were both very smart, very damaged people who preferred to laugh at the world than accept its pity or its help. He knew Barton had a similar sort of darkness inside him – the place in his soul where he killed without regret – but he’d never had that darkness turned on him before. And definitely not in such close quarters.

Clint reached out with his left hand and brushed one of the shafts. “This looks like it went in a good six inches. Bruce might be able to get it out…” Without finishing the sentence, he began unbuttoning Tony’s soft cotton shirt.

Startled, Tony blinked. “Wait, what?” He laid a hand on Clint’s forearm.

The archer looked up at him through his eyelashes as his nimble fingers continued their work. “Trust me, this is going to be quicker.”

Given that the shirt was a loss anyway – Tony was reasonably sure the most talented seamstress in the world wasn’t going to be able to fix two arrow holes so that they looked like anything other than what they were – the obvious question was why Clint didn’t just shred the fabric until Tony was able to squirm free? Stark held his tongue, however; there was something almost submissive about letting Barton take the lead, and it was definitely pushing all the right buttons as far as he was concerned.

… _Especially_ when Clint finished opening his shirt and moved on to his belt without missing a beat. “You know,” Tony murmured, “if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask. Really.”

“Everybody asks,” Clint said dismissively, tugging sharply until he had Tony’s fly open. “Besides,” he continued, finally making eye contact again as he slipped a hand inside the slacks and cupped the half-hard bulge of Stark’s erection, “doesn’t look to me like you’re objecting much.”

“I never object when sex is involved,” Tony continued, ducking his head and finally capturing Clint’s mouth in a kiss. The archer moaned low in his throat, pressing himself full length against Tony so that the billionaire finally understood how happy he was to be there. “That’s where this is headed, right?” Tony asked once they finally came up for air. He was 99% sure he had a good read on Barton’s intentions, but under the circumstances he figured it didn’t hurt to ask.

A momentary surge of disappointment swam through him as Clint pulled his hand away from his crotch, but before he could say anything the archer was using his knee to force Tony’s legs apart. “You talk too much,” Clint growled, fisting both hands in Tony’s dark curls this time. A moment later his tongue was in the billionaire’s mouth, and Tony Stark was rutting shamelessly against Clint Barton’s denim clad thigh.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but his pulse was pounding and everything below his waist was tight and aching. “Okay,” he said, trying to pull free enough to be able to speak, “unless you’re just looking for me to really embarrass myself, we need to figure out where this is heading.”

“I love how he thinks he has a say in where this is heading.” Tony inhaled sharply, forcing his attention past Clint – who was still pressed in much too close – to see that while he’d allowed himself to be expertly distracted, Natasha Romanoff had joined the scene. The redhead’s expression was a predator’s mask, matching her partner’s in casual, deadly interest. “You know if you’re worried about the babbling,” she said, leaning in towards Clint, “I bet he’d be really quiet on his knees with your cock in his mouth.”

 _Jesus!_ Tony thought, wondering if it were possible for his dick to get any harder without involving permanent physical damage. Clint tilted his head, looking at Stark quizzically. “He’d stop talking, at any rate.”

Slightly panicked now, Tony appealed to Natasha – figuring any objections to what happened next were most likely to come from her. “What would it take to convince you two to come with me back to my rooms?”

Cool fingers pressed into his flesh, digging into the skin of his jawline hard enough to draw a small pain noise from his throat. “Assume this is the last time you will be able to speak for yourself until we’re finished with you,” Natasha said, forcing eye contact with him. “Tell us where your limits are – what you don’t find enjoyable as well as what you aren’t willing to do.”

It was a short list, but there was a list, and Tony wasted no time in giving it to them. “Are we letting him have a safe word?” “Clint asked, looking to his partner. Natasha was still watching Tony, although she’d released her hold on him.

“Do you need a safe word, Stark?” she purred, a small smile ghosting across her lips.

He wanted to say yes – in fact, his entire brain seemed to be screaming for it, but he couldn’t make himself actually say the word. “I’m good,” he said instead, silently congratulating himself for being able to keep his voice steady. “Let’s do this.”

Clint stepped back, and Natasha’s eyes widened as she got her first clear look at Tony’s predicament. “And how were you expecting him to get out of that?” she asked, holding her hand out.

Seeming to know automatically what she wanted, Clint drew a knife from somewhere on his person and passed it over, hilt first. “I figured he’d just slip out of the shirt…” the archer said, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Barton I swear – when are you going to learn that most human bodies don’t bend that way?” Showing Tony the knife, she took a step forward. “You know the shirt’s a loss, right?” she asked, taking the fabric in one hand.

“Just get me loose,” he said. “Please.”

“You bend that way,” Clint grumbled as Natasha made half a dozen strategically placed cuts in the cloth. Tony sighed with relief as the restriction on his movements eased.

“Thank you,” he said, unconsciously working some of the stiffness out of his arm and shoulder muscles.

He had approximately a half-second’s warning before Natasha’s hand was on his throat and he was being shoved back hard against the rough stone wall again. Before he could recover his breath, the Black Widow was pressed up into him – kissing him fiercely, even as she slowly squeezed his airway closed.

Tony was hard again in half a second. “You’re done talking,” Nat said as she finally eased up and let him draw a full breath again. “Unless you feel like begging for something – and you better do it very well if you are – you say nothing from this point forward unless asked a direct question. Understood?”

There was a sharp tug at his waist as his open belt was slid free of its loops, but Tony didn’t dare look away from the woman in front of him. “I understand,” he said, nodding. “Perfectly.”  
*************************  
Clint was definitely having trouble keeping his hands off his own cock as Nat looped Stark’s belt around his throat and snugged it in close. The little flashes of genuine fear and uncertainty in the billionaire’s eyes whenever they surprised him were like a hit of raw pheromones to Clint’s system. Tony literally had no idea whether Nat intended to use the makeshift collar and leash to control him or kill him, but he hadn’t flinched when she’d slipped the length of leather into place.

They talked about power being a drug; in Clint’s view the willing forfeiture of power, of control, was the real aphrodisiac. He moved quickly into position in front of the other two as they headed downstairs. It had been Nat’s job to clear the blessedly short distance that separated Tony’s top floor apartments from the roof, but they’d both agreed that under the circumstances it paid to be extra cautious.

If Stark had any thoughts about Clint knowing the access code to his suite, or knowing exactly where his duffle bag full of toys could be found, he kept them to himself. “How do you want to play this?” Clint asked as he rifled the bag – making a mental note of the number of different implements designed to deliver pain before pulling out a basic but well-made set of black leather wrist and ankle cuffs and a ball gag. His agile fingers lingered for a moment on the blindfold he found, but with an amused glance at Tony he bypassed it for a length of heavy satin drapery cord. “Probably want to switch this out for the belt,” he said, holding it up so both Nat and Tony could see. “He’s going to be wearing turtlenecks for a week as it is.”

“Why’d you say no to the blindfold?” he asked Tony as Natasha removed the belt. “We can have all kinds of fun with a blindfold.”

Stark hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “If this ends up being a one-time thing, I’m damn sure not going to miss a second of it.” Which, Clint had to concede, was a fair point. He could still recall every second of the first time he’d seen Natasha naked; it tended to be one of those life changing experiences.

“Wrists,” he said, tossing aside everything but the smaller leather cuffs. Tony obliged automatically, drawing a small, appreciative smile from Clint. “You’re very good at this,” he said, keeping his eyes on his work as he fastened the leather straps in place.

The billionaire shivered involuntarily, shifting slightly as Nat finished stripping him out of his clothes. “What are you thinking?” Clint asked quickly, looking up and catching Tony’s eye. “Right now.”

There was something dark and primal moving behind Tony’s gaze as he said, “I’m thinking about how much I want your cock in my mouth.”  
*********************************  
Barton licked his lips, and it was all Tony could do not to lean forward and kiss him. Natasha was pushing a lot of his buttons, especially with how expertly she was handling the breath-play, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been as hungry for another human being as he was for the man now crouched at his feet, buckling on the leather ankle cuffs.

“I want to see it too,” Natasha murmured; her breath warm against his ear. Tony closed his eyes and shivered again, his cock twitching with interest as he realized the lithe redhead had stripped off her top. “He’s pretty big though – you sure you’re up to the challenge?”

“Pretty sure Steve’s bigger,” Tony answered, pitching his voice low enough that he was reasonably certain Clint couldn’t hear. “All I can do is my best.” He gasped then as Nat reached around him – gripping his cock and jacking him with slow, sure strokes.

“Was there something in that bag that’ll keep him from coming before we’re ready?” she asked, putting the question to Clint, who was finishing up his work.

Dusting his hands on his thighs, Barton pushed to his feet. “Not in the bag, but…” Grinning wickedly at the two of them, he pulled a small strip of black leather out of his pocket. “Ever worn a ring before?” he asked, displaying it for Tony – who was pretty sure if Natasha hadn’t gripped the base of his shaft firmly at just the right moment, he would have ended the discussion on the spot.

The pressure was exquisite as the leather was fastened in place, whiting out all his conscious thoughts for a moment as he shuddered and cried out. “Breathe Stark,” Natasha urged as she and Clint steadied him. “Remember to breathe.”

“Come on, Tony – you can handle this.” Then he was on his knees and Clint was kissing him again…lips and teeth and tongue…hands on his face, in his hair…anchoring him in the moment.

“Please,” he moaned softly when Clint finally let him up for air. “Please let me suck you off, Clint. Please God – can’t wait anymore. I promise I’ll be good…I promise…I…”

“Shh.” A calloused hand caressed his face, urging his head up until he was looking into Clint’s storm colored eyes. “Give me a sec to get ready.”

Tony swayed on his knees as Clint pulled away, as drunk on the hormones flooding his system as he could ever remember being on any quantity or quality of alcohol. “Don’t worry,” Natasha said, combing her fingers gently through his curls. “I promise we won’t leave you wanting long enough for your balls to actually explode.”

Remembering at the last second that he wasn’t supposed to speak, Tony instead began to laugh softly at the absurdity of the statement.

“Wow – he’s toasted.” Clint’s fingers joined Natasha’s, carding through Tony’s hair and caressing his face. “I thought somebody with his reputation…” 

Through the haze of his own arousal, Tony heard the two spies kiss then Natasha said, “Shut up and fuck him, otherwise I swear you’re going to lose your turn.”

Fingers tightened hard in his hair – Tony gasped reflexively at the sudden sharp pain. “All right Stark,” Clint said, moving into his field of vision, gripping his cock. “Time to show me that mouth is good for something besides smarting off.” Tony almost sobbed with relief as the heavy weight of Clint’s shaft slid across his tongue. He reached up to steady himself on the archer’s hips, but Natasha caught his hands and pulled them behind his back.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she said, clipping his wrist cuffs together. “Gotta make it a challenge after all.”

Clint was lightly thrusting into his mouth, but his hips stuttered and he groaned as Tony hollowed out his cheeks and sucked as hard as he could. He seemed happy to let Tony set the pace after that, bobbing his head up and down and simultaneously trying to balance himself with his hands secured behind his back and his own cock aching between his thighs.

There was a rustle of movement around the edges of his awareness, but it wasn’t until Tony caught a flash of pale skin at the edge of his vision that he realized the sounds were Natasha stripping out of the rest of her clothes. Not wanting to get caught with his attention wandering, he rolled his eyes up to check on Clint. The expression on the archer’s face was one of pure bliss – his eyes were half closed, and the sounds coming from him were raw, needy, and seemed to go straight to Tony’s cock.

“You ready?” he asked, tightening his fists in Tony’s hair as a warning. The billionaire gave the only answer he could, which was to suck even harder. He only got in a little more than half a stroke before Clint took over – fucking his mouth hard and fast, each stroke coming perilously close to tripping Tony’s gag reflex. Instinct prompted Stark to struggle against the intrusion, and that was all it took to push Clint over the edge.

Swallowing was automatic so that he didn’t choke. Clint held him in tight and close as his cock continued to pulse out thick strands of come. “Fuck,” Clint groaned, starting to shiver in after reaction. “Nat, you’ve got to have him go down on you too. Man definitely knows what to do with a tongue.”

The world blurred around Tony as he worked his mouth over Clint’s softening cock, making sure he had every bit of the archer’s come before Clint pulled himself free. “Oh he’s floating,” Barton laughed, tipping Stark’s face up and studying his expression. “Whatever you’re planning on doing to him, better make it quick before we lose him.”

“I don’t need his cooperation,” Nat said. Tony didn’t resist as the two of them laid him on his back on the floor. “I just need his cock.”

Tony was half out of his head when Natasha finally stepped across his body and he saw her nude for the first time. _I’m dreaming,_ he thought as she lowered herself onto his still painfully erect shaft – balancing herself with her fingertips resting lightly against the planes of his stomach. _There’s no way anything that perfect can be…_ His thoughts trailed off into a rush of pure sensation that bowed his back and forced a strangled cry from his throat as she sheathed him deep inside her body.

“That’s nice,” she hummed, riding his full length up then pushing down again. She glanced at Clint, who had moved in closer. “How easy do you think it would be to train him?”

Pushing to his knees, Clint leaned in and kissed her. It was long, slow, deep and one of the hottest things Tony had ever seen. “Just try not to kill him,” he chuckled as she continued to fuck Tony with firm, tight strokes.

Tony knew he would agree with Clint’s position if he was capable of forming words anymore. Pleasure swelled inside him as Natasha continued towards her own climax until it became a wave of pressure threatening to explode his entire world from the inside out.

“Fuck,” Natasha groaned, tipping her head back, her fingers teasing at her own nipples. It took Tony a second to realize that Clint’s hand was between the two of them – working Natasha’s clit with his thumb while he stroked Tony’s shaft with his other fingers.

It was right on the edge of too much. “Please,” he begged. “Please let me come. I can’t take it anymore.” They were too perfect and everything had been too intense and felt too wonderful, and…and…

“You close?” It took Tony a second to realize that Clint’s question wasn’t meant for him.

Natasha nodded. “Do it.” She leaned forward then, kissing Tony as ferociously as he’d ever been kissed. He was still lying on his bound wrists, so he couldn’t claim any control – couldn’t do anything but take everything she wanted to do to him. He couldn’t even breathe right. _They’re going to kill me._ The thought was unexpectedly clear; in that moment he believed it as completely as he’d ever known anything in his life.

And then Clint unsnapped the cock ring…


End file.
